continued. @mobspirit
with folded arms, she watches him remove himself from her bike, lips pursed in an attempt to not laugh at his awkward way of getting off of it. “do you want me to-- nope, okay.“ she mumbled, reaching out to take a hold of the handle bars before the bike somehow kills one of them. nothings impossible when you’re around mob, really. she was just worried that he’d bend the handle bars and she’d have to get another bike. if she had a penny for all the spoons he’d ruined, she’d be rich. she hates the way he’s bigger than her. not that he goes on about it all the time (like---every other guy does.) but still. at least being small means she can still crawl between his legs when he gets in the way. which is practically all the time. stupid mob. “get your hands off me. and wash them. gross.” she says as she climbs onto her bike. she didn’t need it right now, but she just wanted mob to stay off of it. she doesn’t like him touching her stuff, as much as she loves him. “i need to go home. come with me?”
